Of Ink and Blood
by La Victime
Summary: The Phoenix is a symbol of power, the Raven is a symbol of death. What kind of mystery will unfold for Holmes and Watson when his twin sister is captured by an unknown enemy. Will Holmes be able to save her in time, or will she save him? M for language HIATUS
1. Surprised & Confused

I'm not going to even bother telling you that I just got inspiration for this because I think, and hope, from experience you all already know this XD BUT I do NOT own Sherlock Holmes (wish I did, I mean COME ON! RDJ is just so..soo…OMG! Amazing, sexy, intelligent, funny, charismatic, the list goes on! Who does NOT want to own him?!) ON WITH THE STORY!!

Chapter 1: Surprised and Confused

"Watson, for pity's sake, will you _stop_ your incessant _pacing_!" he cried, slapping the bow at him. Watson merely moved out of the way and glared at his friend.

"Stop pointing that thing in my face." He growled, resuming his pacing.

"Once again, it's not in your face it's in my hand."

"Then get what's in your hand out of my face, again."

"Why, exactly, _are_ you pacing, ol' boy?"

Watson turned to him with a smile, one he hadn't ever seen before on his partner, but one he'd seen on plenty of others; the smile of a secret, well kept from prying eyes and ears.

"It's a surprise." He replied, smirking at his partner.

"Watson, you know I hate surprises, especially on days like today."

"Holmes, what on earth is wrong with today?"

"It's a Monday! _Everything_ is wrong with today!" Holmes exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air, his face a mask of indifference save for the mischievous glimmer in his dark chocolate eyes. Watson could only roll his own green-blue orbs, a small, amused smile flitting across his face. Holmes stared at his friend, taking in the anxiety and excitement that motivated him and tried to deduce exactly the reason. '_Mary must be coming to visit, with her parents, no doubt. Hm, not very surprising, but I suppose I could try to be civil._' He mused to himself, placing a hand on his chin. Watson glanced at his watch, a look of astonishment appearing on his otherwise calm face.

"Good lord, is that really the time? Holmes, get up and get dressed, and yes, I do mean _clean clothes_. She'll be here soon." He beamed, rushing to head out the door when the bell rang. He swiftly turned back around and fixed Holmes with an intense glare. "Behave yourself. Get clean. Don't make me come back up here." He growled.

"Yes, mother hen, whatever you say." He smirked, moving to do as told, a rare occasion in itself, but he felt like being uncommonly generous to his friend.

_**Bry's POV**_

The bell rang once, and I knocked once, before waiting patiently on the other side, hugging my black cape tighter around my body to keep off the chill of November. My dark eyes took in the sight of London, and it impressed me. How so many people could work, live and be this cheery when all cooped up like sardines was beyond me. It made me miss my home terribly, not that I really had a home as much as I used to. I knocked again and waited patiently, something I can rarely ever do.

"Ah, you must be Ms. Watson!" an elderly woman smiled, opening the door further to allow me entry. Smiling, I picked up my bags and swiftly stepped into the cozy, warm foyer. "Your brother has been pacing up there like a mad man." She remarked thoughtfully, "Oh, deary me! Where are my manners! I am Mrs. Hudson, the land-lady." Mrs. Hudson smiled again, sticking out her hand. I shook it, a small smile on my own face.

"Bryanna Watson, but call me Anna." I replied, inclining my head to her in a form of respect.

"Anna!" a familiar voice cried from behind me, followed by a familiar pair of arms wrapping around my waist. My face seemed to split in half from the large grin that took the sweet smile's place as I turned to face him.

"John!" I exclaimed, throwing my arms around his neck. "It's good to see you again, it's been too long." I let go and kissed him on the cheek when another voice made me pause.

"She's not Mary, for sure, Watson, but she is spectacularly beautiful." The man smiled, taking my hand and kissing it. "Sherlock Holmes, Madame."

"Bryanna Watson." I smirked, noting the fleeting look of surprise and confusion that flit across his face. Sherlock Holmes was handsome with sharp, strong feature, dark, unruly hair, and medium brown eyes that stared at me, at my soul, analyzing everything about me.

"You're his sister, I see."

"How did you know?"

"Well, apart from the obvious reasons of you not being his mother, as you're too young, and you're not his wife, as he's engaged; you have the same eye color, with the darker green rims; very uncommon unless passed along in a bloodline." He smiled briefly, eyes flicking in anger over to Watson, but there was something else there, something that shook me and made me look to my brother in shock. He'd told me of Holmes, of how close they were, nearly like brothers, and he hadn't told him about me at all. Holmes was hurt, genuinely hurt, though I'm sure he'd never admit it openly.

"I've been told much about you, Mr. Holmes. My brother has said nothing but praises, and the occasional complaint, about your…methods." I smirked, glaring silently at my brother. Holmes perked up at the mention of his methods and turned a jovial eye to me.

"He's complained, has he?"

"Oh, yes, very extensively."

"That is quite intriguing as he's told me he never complains about my methods."

"He does to me." I bit my lip hesitantly as John grabbed my bags and took them up to what I assumed to be my room. "He told me of how you can tell everything about a person with only the little details, and I was wondering…what can you tell about me? Apart from the obvious, of course."

He stared at me intently, glancing quickly at the retreating back of my brother before turning back to me.

"Only if you'll join me in the drawing room." He replied with a smile, placing a gentle, yet strong, warm hand on my lower back, leading me to the afore mentioned room. Sitting down on the chaise lounge, I tucked my feet beneath the folds of my dark purple dress, my black traveling cloak still covering the rest of me. Holmes took a seat in the arm chair across from me. He scooted back, leaned forward, rested his left elbow on his left knee, right hand on the arm of the chair; he stared at him, his dark brows furrowing in concentration. "You're a warrior, a leader in your tribe back home. Your mother, Branwen, taught you everything you know after your father, Benjamin, left her, and you, in Ireland. You're a writer, a painter, and you're very fond of animals and nature itself." He paused and leaned back against the chair, a contemplative look on his face. "The only thing I can't figure out is the mark that peeks out from beneath the back of your dress, at the base of your neck, what is it?"

"You're terribly clever, Mr. Holmes, right on all accounts, except for one. I am not a tribal leader, merely a medicine woman. My mother was the tribal leader." My rogue stained lips curved into a tight, sad smile. "There is no longer a tribe, nor a mother." His face fell, a sad look crossing it instead.

"I'm terribly sorry." He murmured. Instantly, I knew he wasn't one to apologize, nor was he going to ever admit to this, but at that moment, I didn't care.

"As for the tattoo, you'll never know." I replied, smiling secretively.

"All your bags are squared away, dear. How about we all go to the Royale for dinner, hm? Where a jacket, Holmes, you're coming along." Watson smiled, fixing a pointed glare at his friend. "And don't harass my twin sister."

"How dare you accuse me of such a thing! I don't harass anyone!"

"What about when you first met Mary?"

"I was merely doing as she insisted."

"Right, and what you did just then?"

"She asked, so I indulged her."

Watson rolled his eyes but accepted the answer nonetheless. "I'll hail a carriage." He muttered, heading out the door. Hurriedly, I dashed upstairs and easily found my room, as it was the only one with the door open and the lights still on. Changing from my traveling cloak to a black coat embroidered with silver knots, I trotted easily down the stairs and into the carriage, with help from my brother, always the gentleman. We were joined shortly after by a clean shaven, well-dressed Sherlock Holmes.

"To the Royale, ol' chap." He called to the driver, and with a snap and a whistle, we were off to dinner.

Sae: Well, there's chapter 1! Now just sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride! =]


	2. Authors Note

Hey guys, I know I haven't updated half of these in a long time. I'm really trying, but I'm starting to forget where I was going with stories, so some of them are on hiatus for a bit. I may not update very well for a bit as my father had a heart attack and went to the hospital this morning…..if any of you pray, and even if you don't, please keep him and my family in your thoughts, we've been having issues with people going to the hospital (including myself) for a few years now. I'm really sorry guys, I feel really bad about not being able to update so much, but I'm really going to try this year and get a lot out! Thanks for still reading, reviewing, and everything! It means a lot to me


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